Dare (9 page)

Chapter Ten

She slid off Joe, her feet touching the floor in his bedroom. The cold wood floor was a stark contrast to the flaming heat in her body, and his. He accepted her, all of her. Through her touch, she could show him that she accepted him too, and what his acceptance meant to her.

They kissed, their caresses peeling off layers of clothing, until they were both naked. The body heat they generated made her skin prickle, as if she’d been sunbathing.

“
Querido
,” she whispered between kisses. Their kisses, their movements, a sensual, swirling dance, dizzied her.

He sidestepped to his nightstand, opening a drawer. A packet crinkled. He slid on a condom. Cupping her cheeks in his strong hands, he gazed at her. She met his look then kissed him. He deepened their embrace, easing her onto the bed.

From her throat, through her chest, stomach, hips, legs, into her heels, each bit of her relaxed. She sank into the soft covers as Joe’s hard body covered hers. Sliding her hands over his chest and down, she grasped his shaft, guiding him into her. She let go as he took over, creating a steady pace in time to their own special rhythm.

Their movements synced, two dancers completely in tune with each other. He kissed the insides of her wrists. She trembled at the tender intimacy of his touch and wrapped her arms and legs around him again, to bring him as close as possible.

He kissed his way down her collarbone, making his way to her right breast. He laved her nipple, which pebbled from his attention. She arched herself into him, shimmying in excitement. His warm mouth took her other nipple. She gripped his biceps as she reached the dizzying edge, that moment during a salsa twirl. He would catch her. He nibbled her nipple lightly and sped his pace. She ran her hands down his back. He held her as she panted and moaned, her climax crescendoing then easing. He slowed his pace again, watching her.

She grinned. “You’ve got some moves.”

He paused. “Takes the right partner.”

“Finish the dance?”

“Big finish.” He winked.

She tilted her hips to meet his renewed thrusts, rocking into him. They spun together, speeding to the heights.

“Joe, oh…” She climaxed again.

He huffed out a breath at his release. When he embraced her, she moaned again at the friction between their slick bodies. Slowly, he eased out of her and, after disposing of the protection, settled next to her. She snuggled into his chest, curving closer to him as he fingered her hair and shoulder blades.

“How long can you stay?” he asked.

She glanced over him, looking for a clock. The red numbers on a digital clock told her she’d already been gone almost two hours.

“Not much longer.”

His chest tensed. “When you’re ready, I’ll drive you back.”

She wished she could stay longer, sleep in his arms. But she also wanted to get back to Layla, make sure she was sleeping well. Her dreams were clear, but the realities were complicated. She couldn’t see how they were going to get from where they were to what she wanted—a family. Still, five minutes feeling Joe’s body supporting hers, his hot skin, their breathing rising and falling in time, was more than the black and white world she’d been in. Since returning here, home, her vision was full Technicolor.

She’d left her phone in the other room. A spark of panic fizzed through her. She hopped up. “I left my cell in the living room. Marcella might’ve called.”

“Meet you out there,” he said in an even tone as she shrugged on her clothes while she hopped toward the hall.

Her hurrying had been for nothing. No messages.

Joe came up behind her and touched her shoulders. “Next time, I’ll bring your phone in. I understand why you want it nearby.”

She leaned into him, releasing the brief tension. “Next time” were beautiful words. “Thanks.”

He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, leaving a sweet trail of heat. “Better get you back,” he said in a low voice.

She nodded and forced herself to step away from him. Grasping her hand, he led her out and down to his car. The night air had become sharper, the sky darker and fewer neighborhood lights shifted the view. She shivered. Joe turned the heater up full blast. The warm air wasn’t needed—all she had to do was change her thoughts to Joe and the memory of him inside her, his sizzling touch, his tender look and gestures. All she had to do was glance at his strong profile, touch his taut bicep, and she was plenty warm.

He pulled into Grandpop’s, punched the gate code, and parked. “Want me to walk you up?”

“Better not.” She might be tempted to ask him to stay in the room next to hers. That wouldn’t be right. “Will you be coming to Enzo’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I can’t stay long. Have a shift at work.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “See you soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll be working the next several days. Don’t want you to think I’m avoiding you.” His grin, boyish and sweet, contrasted with his intent gaze.

“Good to know.” She smiled at him, then with slow movements, slid from the car. She didn’t want to leave his side. But she needed to see Layla. She jogged in, stopping to wave at a still-waiting Joe before she entered the house.

She rushed through the dimly lit kitchen and took the stairs at a sprint. As she approached the door to her room, she slowed to ease her breathing.

Opening the door with a soft push, her smile returned on seeing Layla still sleeping, her little face peeking out from the poofy comforter and pillows. Marcella glanced up from her knitting, but her knitting needles flashed on.

“Everything okay?” Ariella asked.

Marcella nodded. “She sleeps like a little angel. Anytime, I’m happy to sit with her.”

“Thank you.” She walked to the bed, kissed Layla’s forehead then squeezed Marcella’s hand as she rose. She’d already gathered her knitting in her bag.

“You’re staying, yes?” Marcella paused on her bustling way to the door.

“Yes. I’m home. We’re home.”

“Good. We’re all glad.” Marcella nodded and left the room.

Ariella got ready for bed and slid in beside Layla. This was home. She could finally, almost, show Layla what home was really like.

***

The next afternoon, Ariella walked with Layla, holding her hand, to Enzo’s house. Grandpop held Layla’s other hand. Becca and Pete strolled behind, Pete carrying the bags of gifts and food from Grandpop.

Ariella still couldn’t wrap her mind around Lorenzo Calabra as a happy family man—he and his father had both been notorious womanizers, and Vincenzo Calabra was cold and unkind. But, maybe Lorenzo had managed to be different. His mom’s family, the DeGrazias, were full of twists and surprises. Joey—both a DeGrazia and a D’Angelo—was a winning combination of the two: passionate and exciting yet steady and rugged. And handsome—he jogged to meet them as the front door opened.

“Ah, welcome! Ariella, it’s been too long.” Enzo DeGrazia spread his arms wide, a smile on his lean, clean-shaven face, his silver hair gleaming in the mellow December sunlight.

She hugged him, breathing in his lemony scent. The citrus notes were similar to the orange-tinged cologne Papa used to wear. She stayed in Enzo’s arms a moment, blinking away tears. Tears of sadness, and joy.

Enzo released her and greeted his family before bending to Layla’s level. “And who’s this pretty young lady?”

“Enzo, this is my daughter, Layla. Layla, this is Mr. Enzo DeGrazia.”

Layla shook his hand, beaming a smile. “You’re Grandpop’s brother?”

Enzo nodded. “He’s poached the Grandpop title already with you, so maybe you’ll call me Uncle Enzo?”

“Or you could call him Gramps, like I do,” Joey said.

“I’d like that,” Enzo said with a searching look at Ariella and Joey.

Her cheeks heated. Why would Joey want Layla to call his Grandpa “Gramps” unless he wanted… She shook her head. He hadn’t given any indication what type of relationship he wanted. And she wasn’t sure how to forge what she wanted with him, yet.

“Two grandpas,” Layla whispered with the reverence of a prayer.

Joey touched Layla’s head. Enzo smiled. “Then you agree, Layla?”

“Yes, Gramps, I do!” Layla hugged Enzo.

I do
… Ariella peeked at Joe, who gazed at her with a serious expression that made her heart quicken, a flamenco step gone erratic.

“Do we get to meet the baby?” Layla asked.

Enzo stood. “Certainly. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Layla grasped his and Grandpop’s hands. Ariella noticed Sophia scowling at her from the kitchen doorway. She half-smiled tentatively, hoping the critical way Sophia had been looking at her the night before was her imagination, but Sophia ignored her, walking the tray she carried to the living room. Joey glanced at his mom, then Ariella. His strong brows tugged together. They followed everyone into the living room. The house hadn’t changed much since Ariella had last seen it. Paintings of the Amalfi Coast hung on the foyer walls, rich carpets in blues and creams softened the wood floors, and the scent of fresh bread wafted in the warm air.

In the living room, the pocket doors pushed back, the colors echoed those in the foyer. Sophia set the tray on the coffee table. Celeste D’Angelo—now DeGrazia—greeted them all, hugging Ariella and Layla. Lorenzo, who’d been smoothing the dark shock of hair on his baby son’s head, rose from the sofa arm, where he’d been leaning. On the sofa sat a doe-eyed, petite, pretty woman who held a baby bundled in a white blanket, his dark hair and intent brown eyes like Lorenzo’s. Ariella and Lorenzo shook hands.

“Good to see you again,” he said in a voice that had made Ariella’s high school girlfriends speechless.

“You too.” Good to see that he had changed. The Lorenzo she’d known had avoided babies and children, nothing of a family man in him then. Anything was possible.

He introduced his wife, Lita, who smiled, looking like a painting of the Madonna and child, down to the shafts of light from the windows. Ariella introduced Layla, who edged closer to the baby. Her eyes widened.

“You can come over here, Layla,” Lita said. “This is Angelo. I hope you two will be friends.”

“He has brown eyes, like me. Are all babies so quiet?”

“No, and he’s not always quiet.” Lita’s smile tweaked at one corner of her lips.

Lorenzo sat near Lita and Angelo. They included Layla in their conversation. Ariella smiled and glanced at the lively groupings. Her life in Tucson had been so quiet. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the sounds of family. She hadn’t let herself miss these sights and sounds and pleasures. She’d just moved forward, being strong for Layla. But, there was strength in togetherness, and, like Joe had said, in vulnerability.

Joey touched her back. She trembled, the tiny shiver whirring up her spine. “Mom wants me to bring out another tray. Want to help me?”

She nodded. Sophia didn’t look pleased, with her scowl. Was no one good enough for her son? Or did she see something wrong in her?

Chapter Eleven

Joey led Ariella into the kitchen. It was warmer even than the living room. Aunt Celeste must’ve been baking all morning, from the yeasty smell and array of breads and cookies cooling on the counters.

“Hey,” he said to his cousins Vincente and Gina. It was a bit weird, his cousins getting married, but they weren’t related. It’d been good, actually, bringing the two sides of his family together—D’Angelo and DeGrazia—after so many years of animosity. The truce held, but the years of arguing and rifts had left scars. He stood still.

“Merry Christmas,” Gina said, her hand on her pregnant belly. Vincente gave a nod in greeting. “Ariella. Oh wow! I’d heard you were back. Earlier this year, Joey and I were wondering about you, and here you are, home again. Remember, Joey?” Gina hugged Ariella, giving him a conspiratorial look.

“I remember,” he said, more to himself, as Ariella and Gina were already talking about all the family news, or Ariella was asking and Gina answering in her quick, excited way. His conversation with Gina had been one of his lame attempts at finding out something about Ariella.

“How’s it going?” Vincente asked him. “Grandpop says it’s been good having you around more over the holidays.”

“Been good for me too. Thanks for getting your crew to work so fast on my place. It was getting too much staying at my parents. And everything’s fine at your house, but I think he’ll be glad when you’re home.”

“No problem—I know you need some space, especially after work. We’ll be home soon. Will we see you there?”

“No, I’ve got work. Maybe on New Year’s Eve?”

Vincente nodded and glanced at Gina. He had it bad, the way he looked at her like he was a hungry man who’d come across a feast. “Yeah. Can’t believe it, but Gina wants to go to the party at Gianni’s. Pregnancy hasn’t slowed her down.” He half-smiled.

Mom walked in. “Vincente, would you mind taking the tray? And Gina, I think Celeste wants to ask you something.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vincente said to Ariella as he picked up the tray with coffee service.

Gina waved and joined her husband.

Mom gripped the countertop of the island. “Ariella, do you mind if I speak to my son alone?” It was the longest sentence Mom had spoken to Ariella since she’d returned.

Ariella nodded and began walking to the door.

“I mind,” he said. “What’s going on, Mom? You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”

“All right. I suppose it might as well be in the open between us.” She stood at the island, now fingering a folded towel.

Ariella stopped and glanced between them. Joey pulled her to him. Whatever doubts he might have, and however much he didn’t know where he wanted this to go, he wanted to stand by Ariella, support her, keep her here.

“Joey, honey,” Mom said. “I know you used to like Ariella. I can see that hasn’t changed. Has she…” Mom frowned at Ariella. “Have you told him the truth, about you and Brent Scofield?”

Ariella met Mom’s stare. He scrutinized her. “She’s told me enough. How do you know anything about him, or them?”

“His mother told me. She was so ashamed. She had nothing to be ashamed of.” Mom emphasized the “she.” It was clear who Mom thought should be ashamed—Ariella.

“Neither does Ariella.” He held her hand as she stood next to him, still and quiet.

“She killed an innocent baby.”

Ariella sucked in a breath. Joey tried to pull her closer, but her arm was limp. “Mom, I know how you feel, but don’t talk to Ariella like that. Understand?”

“Don’t speak to me in that tone, Joseph D’Angelo. What she did is wrong, shameful.”

“She was just eighteen. She’d just lost her whole family—”

“You’re right, Sophia,” Ariella said, trying to pull her hand away from his. “But I can’t change it.”

“Stop it, both of you,” he ground out. What the hell. He had to leave for work soon. He didn’t need this now. Ever, really. Family drama wasn’t what any of them needed. He’d hoped they’d finally started to put that behind them. And he couldn’t make Ariella change her feelings. He’d tried. She had to do that herself.

“A woman who would have an abortion isn’t the woman for you, Joseph.” Mom placed one hand on the island, the other on her hip.

Joey clenched his jaw. Ariella’s body sagged. “She’s right, she’s right,” Ariella whispered.

He squeezed her hand. “No.” He tightened his jaw. “Mom, have you talked to Dad about Ariella’s past, and your feelings?” He needed back-up.

Mom shook her head.

“Talk to him. I’m done. I love you, Mom, but I decide who I see and don’t see. I’ve let you set me up all you want, indulged your ideas. But I decide who the right woman is for me.”

Grandpop strode in. “Everything okay in here?”

A welcome interruption, before he really lost his temper. And maybe he could get some time to figure out how to help Ariella. “No. Can you take care of Ariella? I’ve got to get to work.” Anger rippled through him as his mind sped. “Did you feed me false information about Ariella all those years ago? And keep what you’ve known since from me?” He faced Grandpop.

Ariella stiffened, turning. She leaned her back against the island. “Joey—”

“Yes, I did,” Grandpop said. “I promised her I’d keep her secrets.”

He ground his teeth together. A part of him respected that Grandpop had honored Ariella’s wishes. But a bigger part felt betrayed, and angry that Grandpop’s usual meddling “I know best” ways hadn’t included keeping Ariella home, and safe. She’d been a hurt young woman who wasn’t making good decisions. He shook his head.

“Joey,” Ariella said in a tired voice, “I don’t want to cause problems.”

“You didn’t cause this.” He waved a hand toward Mom. He kissed Ariella’s forehead. “You were a confused teenager. They were the adults who’d promised to look out for you.” He’d tried, he’d wanted to. He still did. But she was a woman now, and she had to forgive herself. Good advice, maybe for him too.

“I made my own choices.” Her voice was stronger.

“Yes, but they should have supported you.” He gazed at her.

She kept her head down. “Grandpop did support me. It was my choice to leave. I don’t want my past to cause problems in your family. You love your family.”

He glanced at Grandpop and Mom. “Aren’t either of you going to apologize?”

“We both did what we thought was right,” Mom said.

He shook his head. “Ariella, do you want to leave? I can take you on my way to work.”

“No, thanks. Layla’s having a good time. Can’t you stay a few minutes?” She took his hand, gripping tightly like a scared little kid. But she didn’t sound scared, or look it. Her gaze was steady now, her voice stronger still. “We need to resolve this.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen today. The issue isn’t really with them.” He motioned to Mom and Grandpop. “It’s with you, feeling ashamed.”

She nodded. He glanced at his watch. He couldn’t do this now. He didn’t know what to do, besides take her in his arms. But that hadn’t helped her forgive herself before.

“I can’t be late. I’ll see you in a few days.” He could see her before then, but it seemed like they both needed time to figure out how to let go of the past, and where they wanted to take what was happening now.

He caressed her arms. She kissed his cheek. “I’ll still be at Grandpop’s. Stay safe.”

“Joe,” Grandpop said.

“Gotta go.” His job could be stressful. He didn’t need manufactured stress. And he shouldn’t be going to work angry. He wasn’t hearing apologies, or anything to cool his temper. He’d have to do that himself. Like Ariella had to forgive herself. But more could’ve been done to keep her here, and safe, before. He could’ve done more. “Say bye to everyone for me.” He strode out. Felt like he was most angry at himself for not having had the courage to tell Ariella how he’d really felt, for not comforting her in a way that worked, for not being the man she needed.

Was he doing the same now?

He rolled his shoulders then hopped in his car. Nothing to be done now. His job was important to him too. He was needed there. Hopefully he’d have time for both.